


dreams can't take the place of loving you

by Skyebyrd



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Nautical Marriage theme bc im cliche af, Restaurants, so much sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3370331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyebyrd/pseuds/Skyebyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry’s watching Louis as he stands on a ladder, paint covering his arms and dripping down his legs a bit, when it occurs to him just how bare Louis’ fingers look. He knows exactly what should go there, too, but the thought of doing so sets his nerves spinning.<i></i></i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>in which Liam is the go-to ring guy, Niall's relentless, Zayn is family, and Harry and Louis are disgusting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dreams can't take the place of loving you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowglobegays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowglobegays/gifts).



> this was based off of the following prompt: harry proposes to louis and louis gets all crinkly-eyed happy and they plan the wedding and really just everything marriage (feat liam and zayn as louis's best buds and they walk him down the aisle because his dad isnt there anymore)
> 
> i mixed it up a little and made it my own, but it's essentially the same story and i really hope you like it!!! i struggled a bit with writing this and plotting it out at first, but i finally hit a good stride and i love how it turned out. i'm so beyond proud of this piece. 
> 
> shoutout to my beta [naureen](http://reklessabandon.tumblr.com) for being the raddest chick this side of the galaxy AND for making this rad af header. ur cool and i love you. 
> 
> I also feel I should preface this by saying that the way louis is characterized here is in no way indicative of how I think he is in real life. I obviously don't know him nor his relationship with his parents. this is not trying to claim or characterize the real Louis Tomlinson in any way. 
> 
> EDIT: the original title "you put my love on top" was more of a placeholder until i could find something that really spoke to me. of course, i found the perfect title the day after i submitted this. 
> 
> the title is now from "When You Look Me In the Eyes" by the Jonas Brothers bc that song is literally the epitome of true love.
> 
> EDIT 2: now that i've been revealed, y'all can hmu on [my tumblr](http://skyebyrd.tumblr.com) if u want :)
> 
> EDIT 3: this fic is now about 500% more painful w zayn leaving :(((( tread carefully

 

“So, Louis, do you think this one works better?” Harry holds up yet another colour swatch up to their wall and, honestly, it looks like the fourth cream colored swatch in a row. He’s usually good with colour shades, but for some reason all the whites run together- cream, eggshell, off-white. “Or this one?” Was that eggshell? Maybe. It could be some kind of yellow, though, also. Shit, was cream a white or a yellow shade?

“Babe?” Harry turns to look at him, grin clear on his face, looking at him amusedly; Louis had definitely been zoned out for a minute, there.

“Hazza, I told you, I think the softer colors should go in the hallway. You cook in here all the time--don’t you want something exciting? Flavourful? Chef Ramsay doesn’t have a cream-colored kitchen; spice up your life, love.” Louis goes to their color cards on the keychain and holds up a vibrant blue that almost matches his own eyes. “What do you think?” Louis smiles widely and then holds it up to his face to show the resemblance.

Harry just laughs at him and puts back all the off-white, cream, eggshell, and cobalt swatches onto the chain.

“Don’t think either of us know exactly what Gordon Ramsay’s personal kitchen looks like, but nice try, Lou.” He chuckles, flicking through the swatches. “‘Sides,” he stops at the reds, “we’re already using the cobalt in the bathroom.” He holds up a burgundy to the wall.

“Bit too Christmas-y to work year-round, yeah?” Louis says and Harry nods after a moment, flicking through them again.

“This one?” Louis stops him at the scarlet, but Harry shakes his head.

“Too bright. Would blind myself just trying to cook your eggs benedict, I think.” Louis giggles a moment but allows him to flick through a few more before their hands meet on the same card.

It’s a dark red- a lovely carmine, and they both smile at each other.

They both hold it up to the wall.

“I love it.” They say at the same time and their eyes meet, laughing brightly.

“Carmine it is, then.” Harry says, writing it down on a piece of paper. There are other colors on the sheet (cobalt, antique white, champagne, lemon chiffon, coral red) for almost every room in the house. The bathroom is bright blue and seashell, their room soft shades of white, the guest room a soft brown and a pink they can’t decide on yet, the hallway undecided, and now the kitchen a deep, savoury red. “Only this wall, though. The room would get too dark in the winter, even with the chandelier in the middle, here.” He goes back to flipping through their color swatches, stopping yet again on the whites.

“We could put the carmine and the cream next to each other?” Louis tries, but Harry shakes his head no. “Ivory?”

Harry holds them next to each other.

“Maybe.” He then writes ivory down on the sheet as well. “Should we move to the living room?” Harry doesn’t even stop to wait for an answer, just picks up the swatches and moves on; Louis has to reach a hand out and presses against his shoulder.

Louis smiles at him, looking up at him through his eyelashes in a way he knows makes Harry’s knees a bit weak, and leans up until Harry understands. Their noses touch softly, sliding past each other, until their lips finally press together. It’s sweet and Louis is overcome with love; he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck while Harry’s arms come down and grab Louis by the waist.

They’ve been living here for two years; Harry has been begging Louis for a redecoration for half that time, and this is their anniversary present to each other. Paint and some plants, some new bedspreads, paintings and new picture frames. They’re terribly domestic. But--

“I’m so happy to be here with you.” Louis breathes against Harry’s mouth when they separate, and Harry’s smile is blinding.

“Me too. I love you so much.”

They kiss again, the light reflecting off the white walls.

* * *

Harry’s watching Louis as he stands on a ladder, paint covering his arms and dripping down his legs a bit, when it occurs to him just how bare Louis’ fingers look. He knows exactly what should go there, too, but the thought of doing so sets his nerves spinning.

He knows he’s staring, too, just looking straight at the way Louis’ small fingers hold the paint roller above him as he tries to paint around the light fixture without splashing it onto the bulb; they’ve put tape around it, of course, but painting isn’t exactly either of their strong suits.

“See something you like?” Louis asks with a shit-eating grin on his face. Harry’s been caught.

“No, just looking at this weird gnome painting my ceiling.” Harry shoots back, and Louis looks at him with this expression on his face that’s half-shocked and half-amused.

“Gnome? _Gnome_?” Louis shouts, dipping a spare brush into the paint and then climbing down the ladder. “I’ll show you who’s a gnome, you giant.”

Harry knows what’s coming, so he bolts, laughing as Louis chases him, brandishing the brush like a sword.

“Get back here!” Louis calls, their laughter echoing along the walls. Louis’ brush is dripping paint all over the carpets, but neither of them particularly care; every time they’ll see a stain, they’ll only be reminded of happy memories, times just like this.

Harry has turned into the guest room, still unpainted with all the furniture removed, and Louis flicks the brush towards Harry’s back, splattering paint all over him. He turns around, mouth dropped down in a laugh as Louis corners him, his hands stretched protectively outwards as Louis giggles while brushing straight across Harry’s hands. The paint is tacky and Harry knows he’ll be stained for a bit, the color bright enough to hold onto his skin.

“I’ll teach you-- _oh_ ,” Harry gets his hands onto Louis’ sides, tickling him relentlessly as Louis laughs loudly, “to call me a gnome, Styles!”

The brush gets to his chest, swiping across and painting his shirt, bits of paint splashing up to his neck and chin. The paint’s getting all over this corner of the wall, up into their hair and all across their clothes, but this is honestly one of the best moments of Harry’s life. He knows that in ten years, twenty, thirty, god, they’ll be seventy years old in some nursing home, probably, and he’ll think back to this moment; right when he knew he had found _infinity_.

Eventually, they slow, Louis dropping the brush onto the carpet, paint spilling into what they’re going to scrap, anyway, planning to remove the harsh carpet and put dark wood there instead. Maybe Harry’ll keep this one small part of the carpet, just for them.

Their paint-coated hands hold onto each others necks, Louis’ going just that much further and curling his fingers into Harry’s hair; they’re definitely going to have to shower after this, that much is obvious. Their lips connect, sweet as anything Harry’s ever baked at his restaurant, and, God, he never wants to stop, never wants to take his hands, his eyes, his lips away from Louis’ body.

Not for the rest of his life.

It gets heated pretty quickly, but that’s so normal for them; Louis gets him so _hot_ , burning up with this almost-unstoppable fever.

Harry knows Louis’ knees start to go a bit weak right around then, just when Louis gets that much more turned on and he starts to go a bit fuzzy, insatiable and minxy and soft-eyed. He grabs Louis’ ass firmly, one cheek in each hand, and he’s always so grateful for the size of his hands; they’re just big enough to hold Louis in them perfectly.

And--

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” Harry whispers to him as Louis’ body slumps against him slightly. Harry picks him up and turns them around, pushing Louis against the wall to help support his weight as he rearranges Louis’ legs around his waist. “Let me hold you just right, hm?”

Harry presses soft, sweet sugar kisses into Louis’ golden neck, an endless caramel for him to nibble on and taste.

“Gonna fuck me right here? Right against the wall of our k--” Something makes Louis slur his words just a bit more and he gasps as their cocks brush against each other.

“Our what?” Harry breathes; he _knows_ , is the thing, he knows what Louis was about to say, but he needs to hear it. Needs Louis to say it to him, out loud, just for him.

Louis just whimpers a bit as Harry massages his ass, pushing their pelvises together rhythmically, the paint all over them sliding around and making everything sticky and vaguely uncomfortable. Louis’ fingers are sliding through Harry’s curls, tangling in them, curling around his neck, scratching down his chest, clutching to his shoulders. He can’t seem to stop moving, squirming, touching Harry and himself as Harry holds him and grinds against him, so slowly.

“Our _what_ , Louis?” Harry reminds with a small tap to Louis’ hip; it’s just a reminder of what could come today.  

Louis moans, and then breathes out, “Our kids’ room,” and Harry attacks his mouth.

“God, Lou,” Harry bites at Louis’ jaw, “we’re gonna have so many kids.”

There’s a breathy moan next to his ear, a sighed _tell me, please, babe, tell me_ , and Harry suddenly can’t stop speaking.

“So many kids, Lou, I promise. At least half a dozen. Doesn’t matter how we have them, if we,” Harry moans as Louis swivels his hips against his particularly well, “if we adopt, o-or surrogate, or--”

This isn’t something Harry’s ever said before; he hopes this isn’t too weird, but he’s gone too far to stop, now.

“Or, Jesus, just think if I could get you pregnant, sweetheart. Get you all filled up with me, have me inside of you for so _long_ , you’d never be rid of me, wouldn’t have my come out of you for _months_ \--” They’re both so loud right now, humping each other like fucking teenagers, paint drying tacky all over their skin and clothes and the walls, moans echoing around the house.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, harder--” Louis’ clutching to him, so loud, so sweet and pliable and willing. Harry moves their bodies closer than before, somehow closing that infinitesimal space between them, kissing hard, teeth nipping.

“Can’t fuck you right now, darling, sorry, but--” Harry sucks a mark into Louis’ sweet skin, Louis panting into his ear, tongue brushing his temple, “but I will tonight, I’ll bend you over onto our bed with those soft sheets and I’ll eat you out until you _cry_ , and then I’ll turn you over and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

“Christ, H,” Louis moans out, and he’s more than halfway there, Harry can feel it. Louis’ arms are trembling around him, his legs worn out and drooping, Harry having to hold him up more securely. “Can’t last much-- _ah_ , longer.”

“Gonna come all over yourself, baby? Come in your pants, just for me?”

They’re rutting against each other, completely clothed, but he feels like his skin could melt his clothes right off. The wall can’t be all that comfortable for Louis, he’s sure, but neither of them can move right now, too overwhelmed with the need to come, the need to move against each other and--

“That’s it, darling,” Harry whispers to Louis as he comes. His mouth is dropped open, beautiful, overwhelmed sounds pouring out of him like a song, his body twitching with shocks all over his skin. After Harry rubbing against him for a few more moments, Louis whimpers, feeling over sensitive.

“What do you need?” Harry asks, and Louis sighs, his head falling back against the wall.

“Lemme,” His voice is slurring and so soft, so small, and Harry knows he’s under a bit, “Lemme suck you. _Please_.”

Harry’s heart grows tenfold at the sight of Louis’ bitten lips and red cheeks and he can’t just _not_ kiss him, breathing heavily through his nose.

“Anything you want, you can have.” Harry says to him, turning so his back is to the wall instead, and lets Louis down. He kneels, mouthing at Harry’s cock through his sweatpants, while Harry runs his fingers through Louis’ hair. “But you already know that, don’t you, angel? You know I’d do anything you asked? Give you anything you so much as thought about?”

Harry’s voice is cut off as Louis tugs his pants down, swallowing his cock all the way down,, his blue eyes tearing up with the effort. His breathing is laborious, harsh in their quiet home, and it sends Harry’s blood rushing, just listening to him. The vibrations of Louis’ throat feels amazing on his cock, and he never wants to stop.

“Feel so good for me.” Harry says to him, and repeats that in so many different ways, all the ways he knows and then some; he needs Louis to always know just how good he is for him.

“I love you.” He finally breathes out, and says a quick warning before Louis takes him all the way down again and he comes. White covers the backs of his eyelids as he shoots down Louis’ throat, both of them moaning.

Louis swallows it all, like he always does, like Harry’s good little boy.

He slumps down the wall, energy spent and knees weak. Louis folds himself in his arms, making himself so small and fitting just right in his lap; he’ll be like this for a while. Harry whispers praises in his ear as Louis lays there; he pets him and gives him little kisses and touches all over his back, just like Harry knows he loves. He loves being made calm and sweet, loves _being_ calm and sweet, all for Harry, and he especially loves being told he’s being good.

A while later, Louis comes back up.

“Need a shower.” He murmurs, still tired and a bit hazy, but there. “We’re all sticky. Paint and come and sweat and saliva…” Louis’ voice trails off, and they smile a bit. They’d made such a huge mess.

“Alright, love.” Harry picks him up and carries them to the shower. They undress, their limbs still wobbly and shaking a bit with exertion, buttons being missed and Harry, for one, trips while trying to get out of his pants, but it’s good. It’s really good.

They clean themselves up, washing each other down with gentle smiles and hands, exchanging small kisses all the while, and they tumble onto their bed; the bed has been relocated to the living room while they’re painting their own room, so the large bay windows bring in so much light from the afternoon sky it’s a wonder they sleep at all.

But with Louis wrapped around him from behind, it comes so easily.

* * *

“So, Harry, I’ve noticed a distinct lack of a ring on our mutual friend’s fingers.” Niall says as soon as Harry opens the door for him. Harry’s eyes go wide and he turns to look behind him, afraid Louis has overheard from where he is in the kitchen, taking the tape off the walls now that they’ve finally completed the kitchen. They had decided on the ivory, offsetting the bronze of the chandelier and the carmine of the wall and the new marble of the countertop.

“Niall!” Harry hisses out warningly, and Niall just laughs.

“Just an observation, bro, chill.”

“Why are you even here, Ni?” He asks him, curiosity overcoming his urge to shut Niall’s trap.

“All in due time, Harry, all in due time.” Niall claps him on the shoulder and walks into the home just as Louis walks into the hallway; they both smile at each other, hugging their hellos.

“I didn’t know you were coming over.” Louis says confusedly, more of a question than anything else as he looks at Harry with questions in his eyes.

Harry just shrugs.

“I didn’t either.”

Niall laughs.

“Wanted to surprise you! I know you’re going off for that conference for a bit, but since our Harry here can’t leave behind his restaurant, I figured I’d entertain him for a few days.” Niall swings his arm over Harry’s shoulders, smiling brightly.

“I literally see you every day at the restaurant for the dinner shift. Which--shouldn’t you be there right now? You’re supposed to be training Josh, today.”

Harry used to work all hours at his restaurant; he and Louis and Zayn had bought La Lune from an old, first generation French couple whose grandparents had started it decades ago. It had been a fixer-upper, the boys having to redecorate and spend so much of their own savings on making the dining area beautiful and clean, while also trying to pay the people who worked for them.

As a pediatric nurse, Louis worked night shifts, because it paid just a hair more. With Harry working from five until ten, and Louis working from six until seven, they used to never see each other. It had been hard, but after five years of working hard, they were out of debt and could move into their own house.

Eight (going on nine) years together, and Niall just wants to bring up rings at the drop of a hat.

Well, sure, he’s definitely thought about it through the years. Especially since that day when they decided to redecorate the spare to be a _nursery_ , for fucks sake. It’s soft white walls are offset by one wall painted by Zayn; a grand, old boat with huge masts and sparrows resting on top of the sails, waves crashing around it. It’s really amazing, and Zayn refused any form of payment, saying _really, Harry, I don’t need anything_.

Zayn has been part of both of their lives for so long; Louis has grown up with him his entire life--literally spent his diaper days in the Malik household. Harry met Zayn in culinary school and they had taken a huge gamble getting the restaurant, with Zayn in front of house as his floor manager. He’d even been the one to decorate the front of their house.

They finally have everything they’ve ever wanted; marriage is an option now and Harry’s too afraid to look at it in its face.

“Yeah, I know, but Josh’s uncle died so Zayn scheduled for him to start next week. Couldn’t make him start a new job and have him mourning at the same time.” Niall shrugs, bringing Harry back to the conversation at hand. Right. Extended vacay with Niall Horan, then.

Louis tsks.

“Poor kid.” They all stand in a kind of awkward moment of silence, before Louis continues. “Anyways, Niall, my train leaves in a couple hours so we were just gonna have an early dinner if you wanted to join us?”

“Depends...did you cook or did Harry?”

Harry laughs while Louis rolls his eyes.

“You really think I’m going to risk our _literally_ brand-fucking-new kitchen on my cooking? No.” And with that, Louis walks back into the kitchen, Niall and Harry following.

Harry goes about grabbing dishes and silverware from their cabinets and drawers while Louis and Niall chatter on behind him in the dining room. The smell wafting through the house is amazing; Harry can’t wait to eat it.

“What’d you even make, Harry?” Niall calls back to him as Harry’s plating the dishes. Even though they’re just at home and it’s a simple early dinner (practically a lunch), he wants it to look nice.

“Southern fried chicken with corn on the cob and collard greens.” Harry says, presenting the plates with a flourish. “Been missing home a bit, so.”

Niall eyes the food lustfully.

“Never thought I’d say this, but God bless the south.”

They all laugh brightly, and set to eat.

 

* * *

Louis is finishing up packing his bags in their room while Niall and Harry are cleaning up the dishes in the kitchen. There are no cooking dishes to be cleaned, though, because Harry is nothing if not a very clean chef. If he’s learned anything from Gordon Ramsay, it’s that a shit workplace produces shit food.

“So, about that ring…” Niall starts off, and Harry groans.

“Seriously, Niall, not this again. I’ve told you, I’ll do it when I think we’re ready.” Harry takes a washed off plate and rubs it dry with his towel before placing it on the stack.

Niall scoffs at him.

“When we were in school, you told me you’d propose when we graduated. After that, you said you’d do it when you moved in together in that shitty apartment. After that, you said it would be when you and Zayn had gotten that restaurant. After _that_  you said you’d do it when you got a house together. Then you said it would happen when you could take more time off and out of the restaurant to spend more time with each other. You keep chickening out, man, and it’s s _howing_.” Niall moves the sudsy sponge around a wine glass rather aggressively after his big rant, getting it nice and sparkling before handing it off to Harry.

“Yes, because I keep thinking I’ll--we’ll be ready for the next step, but it’s just not happening.” Harry sighs. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

Niall places a mug down in the sink and turns to face him, calmly.

“Harry, look, I love you and I’m always going to be grateful I got stuck as your partner that first day in culinary school, but right now, you’re being a fucking idiot. Louis loves you. You love him. You have a nursery already made for your future children, for Christ’s sake, and if that doesn’t scream commitment, then I don’t know what does. You’ve both been ready for a long time.” Niall picks the mug back up and continues cleaning it. “Now try and tell me again why proposing is a bad idea.”

Harry takes the offered mug and goes about drying it off. He thinks, long and hard about what Niall said, until he answers with a defeated sigh.

“I can’t think of a bad idea.”

Niall beams at him.

“Atta boy, Harry!”

“What’s up?” Harry hears Louis ask from the doorway and he drops the mug in his hands; he’s grateful it’s sturdy and doesn’t shatter.

“ _Nothing_!” Harry says, probably way too shrill and quickly because Louis just quirks an eyebrow and smiles confusedly. “Nothing, promise.”

Louis sets his handbag down, his overnight bag behind him.

“Alright…” Louis trails off, laughing a little. “Whatever you gentlemen say.” He steps further into the kitchen, moving towards Harry, and tilts Harry’s head to him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He says with a smile in his voice, and Harry can’t ever tell him no. It’s a bit of a bittersweet kiss since Louis will be gone for almost an entire week for his training conference, but he’s also so proud of Louis for getting this amazing opportunity to learn from some amazing doctors. Louis nips at his bottom lip when they pull apart, and they both pretend to not hear Niall’s gagging behind them.

Harry goes to the hallway, still an undecided color and thus still the same boring white, and picks up Louis’ bag to follow him out to the car while Niall stays behind to finish up the dishes. Harry helps him put the bags in the backseat of their car, which Louis is taking. Harry’ll just have to make do with the motorcycle for the week and pray it doesn’t rain as badly as the weather forecast has been saying.

“Are you sure that’s everything?” Harry asks, turning around to face Louis, only to be crowded up against the closed door and kissed within an inch of his life.

“Too bad Niall came over,” Louis breathes into his mouth. “I would’ve blown you before leaving.”

Harry groans into his mouth, pulling him closer and running his hands down Louis’ back and up around his neck, holding their bodies together.

“I love you,” They say, one after the other, when they separate.

This week is going to be hard. Harry’s mouth aches for Louis already and he still hasn’t even left yet.

Louis gets into the driver’s seat, Harry bending down to be at the same eye-level as Louis once he rolls down the window.

“You drive safe for me, alright? I love you and I’ll miss you, baby.”

Louis smiles at him, for him.

“Of course, sweetheart. Always do.” His hand comes up to gently stroke Harry’s cheek. “I’ll miss you more.”

Harry kisses his palm.

“Impossible.”

With one last shared kiss, Louis drives off, Harry watching him until he can’t see him anymore.

Harry walks back inside their home, silent except for the running and splashing of water, so Harry heads back to the kitchen to find Niall finishing up the last of the dishes. Niall hands him some spoons to wipe off, and they continue from where they had been before, just with Harry that much more silent due to the weight of Louis’ absence.

Niall breaks the silence.

“Propose to him yet?”

Harry splashes him with water, rolling his eyes. It’s going to be a long week.

* * *

Harry decides to open this week, so for the first time in a long time, he and Zayn are scheduled at the same time. It’s not like they never see each other outside of work, but with a baby on the way, Zayn has to stay at home in the afternoons and nights to make sure the woman who’s pregnant with his and Niall’s child is doing well; she’s eight months along, now, and he and Niall are constantly worried about her.

But with Louis’ absence, Harry can’t stand to just sit around inside the empty home and doing nothing until the dinner shift, so he and Niall are working side by side in the kitchen with Zayn and Lou Teasdale running front of house. Well, until Lou gets a call saying from her daughter’s school saying Lux is sick and she needs to get her.

So, with Zayn now expediting, they all three get to have a conversation together for the first time in ages. It’s nice to work with Zayn again, after not having done so for so long. He’s missed him. When they’d opened the restaurant up, they’d worked from opening to closing together every single night; it had taken a long time to gain the synchronicity they have now, and Harry loves working with him.

“You propose to Louis yet?” Is the first thing out of Zayn’s mouth after he calls out an order of _one eggs benedict, one sunny side up with extra bacon, one pancakes, one fruit salad for table four_.

Harry nearly drops the bowl of hollandaise right onto the floor.

He glares at Niall.

“You two been conspiring?” He grunts out.

Zayn laughs behind him.

“Only a little bit. Niall says that you’re finally convinced you’re _allowed_ to propose now?” Zayn’s tone is only slightly mocking and Harry would’ve had a good, quick, witty response if he hadn’t been so concentrated on poaching these eggs. Even after all this time, poaching eggs still gets him into some trouble; they’re such delicate things, and poaching is as much complex as it is simple. He cracks an egg into a ramekin, swirling the water with a whisk in his right hand, and drops it in whites first; the whites slowly engulf the yolk as it cooks, and he’s honestly proud of himself every time he does it successfully. He does a second one just as the first one starts to coagulate, and takes a look at the clock, reminding himself to check on them in four minutes.

“Yeah, I guess.” Is what comes out of his mouth instead of something clever, but, alas; it was not meant to be. “Niall said it’s about time, so. I guess I should get over myself.” Niall’s behind him, finishing off the pancakes and fruit salads; he also looks like he’s ten seconds away from laughing.

“Something you want to say?” He directs to Niall, who chuckles at first.

“No, no, it’s nothing.” Niall plates the fruit salad as Harry turns around to check on the sunny side up eggs. He sees they’re about two seconds from having the whites seize up, so he shakes his head, tossing them and starting over. “Just that you admitting you need to get over yourself is great progress.”

“Shows lovely humility.” Zayn puts in, like he’s fucking helpful at all.

“Don’t you have cups to fill with orange juice or something?” He snarks back, Niall flipping over a couple pancakes behind him. Zayn just ignores them and they work in silence, Harry plating the sunny side ups while the poached eggs finish cooking in the pot; he takes them out with a spoon gently, not wanting them to open, and places them on perfectly toasted English muffins, dabbing hollandaise on top. Niall plates the pancakes, and Zayn makes sure the plates are clean and perfect before signalling a waitress over to serve them.

“Table four’s done.” Niall says, a bit unhelpfully at this point. They don’t have any more tickets for the moment, so they set about cleaning up the little bit they couldn’t manage while cooking. He wipes up some spilled hollandaise and syrup, handing some dishes over to Sandy to wash out, but that’s all that needs to be done. The water running makes a bit of white noise in the background, and it’s kind of relaxing.

Harry goes about making more hollandaise while they have a moment to spare; he cracks a couple eggs into a bowl, squeezes a lemon, and even gets to the point of cooking it before Niall speaks again.

“Have you thought about how you’re gonna do it?”

Harry has...a _lot_. He’s thought about it for years; how he’s going to find the perfect ring and cook a great, showy meal, maybe some lamb lollipops or some venison, or how maybe he could take Louis out to a fair and get down on one knee after winning him something, or maybe just do it at home in the peace and quiet when they’re settled in to bed. He has so many different scenarios planned out in his mind, but none of them feel exactly _right_.

“A bit. Can’t decide on anything yet, though.”

A ticket prints out, Zayn calling out three orders of pancakes and two eggs over easy, and they set off again.

“What’s there to decide on? Get a ring, kneel down, you ask, he says yes, bada bing, bada boom, you get married, have a hundred kids; your dream life.” Zayn says, and Harry just rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Zayn, because that’s _so_ realistic.”

“Harry, if you proposed to Louis in a garbage can after not having showered for three months and you were flat broke, he’d still say yes. That boy is head over heels for you.”

Harry flips the eggs over.

“I know he is; there’s not a day in my life I don’t know how much he loves me, and how much I love him. It’s just--” Harry can’t put words to it.

“It’s just what?” Niall prompts him and Harry can only shrug.

“I don’t know. Nerves, maybe?” He plates the eggs as Niall finishes up the pancakes. “That’s not quite right.”

“Well _excuse me_. I’d like to see you do better pancakes.” Niall says, vaguely offended.

Harry and Zayn both burst out laughing and Niall just looks confused.

“Not--” Harry laughs again, trying to catch his breath, “Not the pancakes. I meant calling my feelings ‘nerves,’ because I don’t think thats the right term for it.”

Niall smiles a bit, properly chagrined a tad. “Sorry.”

Harry just waves his hand a bit, dismissing it.

“Maybe I’m just scared, I guess.” Harry pauses. “I don’t know; we’ve been together for so long, and I don’t doubt he’d say yes, but I’m still so scared of doing it. Like--I _know_ I want to spend the rest of my life with him. But marriage is so...I don’t know. It’s huge, guys.”  

Harry wants it so badly; he wants that ring on Louis’ hand, he wants a huge ceremony, he wants the children and the pets. He wants everything and anything with Louis, no matter how big or small it is.

He slams a fist on the counter.

“Fuck it. Niall, we’re going ring shopping tomorrow.”

Everyone in the kitchen lets out a huge whoop and Harry grins happily. Gossip spreads through to the waitresses and busboys in the restaurant, and soon, everyone is congratulating him on finally getting over himself and making the big move.

And Harry’s too excited to be embarrassed.

He’s going to _propose_ to the love of his life.

* * *

Niall insists on bringing Liam along because _Liam has experience buying rings and we need all the help we can get, dude_.

Liam, bless his heart, seems so out of his depth.

“I don’t know a single thing about guy’s rings. Why am I here?”

Niall rolls his eyes, leaning closer to a display case.

“Because you and Louis went through your training together, you go drinking every weekend, _and_ you’re the only one of us three to have proposed before.”

Liam rolls his eyes.

“Sophia basically already knew the exact kind of ring she wanted and I was more than happy to get her her dream ring. So it’s not like I have a whole lot of practice in searching for rings since she chose it. And--you couldn’t have asked your husband to do this instead because…? They grew up together; surely Zayn knows Louis better than I do. Plus, Zayn’s bought dude rings before; you literally have it on your hand right now.” Liam points out.

“He’s got a point.” Harry chimes in and Niall gives him an unamused look.

“Look, boys,” Niall starts off, “Louis is a d _elicate_ flower.” Harry and Liam both snort, but Niall plows on, “He needs the single most gorgeous piece of jewelry this world has to offer.”

“Don’t know if I have that kind of money.” Harry mutters, glaring at a price tag for a quarter of a million dollars for one ring. He _knew_ he should have gone on Masterchef last year. They’d just spent so much on redecorating their home and while Harry will never regret that, it leaves his wallet a little on the emptier side. 

“Hey, mister, if you can’t have a good attitude about it…” Niall trails off with a bit of a glare. Harry just scoffs at him.

“You’ll do what, Niall? Kick me out of the decision-making part of getting my boyfriend an engagement ring?” Liam chuckles, which only serves to help Harry’s point. Niall can’t just kick him out of this. “Besides, I think it’ll help if I’m realistic and don’t send myself into debt, don’t you think?”

Niall turns back to the display, shrugging. Harry knows he’s won the battle, but there’s an entire war ahead. Which is the perfect ring for Louis?

 

* * *

Three days, five stores, twenty prospect rings, and a thousand dollars later, Harry’s found it.

It’s a gorgeous white gold [ring](http://www.zales.com/mens-enhanced-blue-white-princess-cut-diamond-three-stone-ring-10k-white-gold/product.jsp?productId=15506236) with three stones: a blue diamond on top and bottom and a white diamond in the center. The moment Harry had seen it, it had screamed Louis.

He called a sales assistant to pull it out of the display case, Niall and Liam noticing from the other side of the store, where Liam had gotten sidetracked by some earrings he was thinking about getting Sophia. They had walked over and took one look at it and given their approval.

The sales assistant had remarked something about good choices and price ranges, but Harry didn’t care; he had _found it_.  God, he had found Louis an engagement ring and Louis isn’t even home yet. The ring is still back at the store, waiting for Harry to find out Louis’ ring size because for some stupid reason he hadn’t thought about it, but he’d made a down payment and just needed to do some snooping.

Right now, though, Harry’s baking like mad; it’s something of a nervous habit he has. He’s finishing up the custard for a lemon meringue pie right now, his meringue off to the side being beaten by a mixer, a perfect crust just waiting to be filled. He knows Louis is set to be home sometime tonight, tired and rumpled like he always is after traveling, and it sets his nerves sizzling just knowing he has plans to propose now. Maybe not completely finite, solid plans, but they’re there.

When Harry pulls the pie out of the oven, he hears a car door slam. He knows it could very well be one of the neighbors, so he tries not to get his hopes up too much, but when he hears the front door open and a little sneeze in the hallway, he knows his baby is home.

He sets the pie down on top of the stove, switches the oven off, and turns around to see Louis standing in the doorway, looking like _heaven_.

“Angel,” Harry breathes and they both crash into each other, holding each other so tight. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Louis just kisses him, hard, backing Harry into the counter and moving his hands down Harry’s sides, holding onto his hips. Harry had imagined Louis would be sleepy, would need cuddles and a movie in the background, but Louis apparently needs to be _fucked_.

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He spins them around, pressing Louis into the counter as he pushes Louis’ shirt up his torso where it catches around his armpits. Harry presses kisses down his stomach, tongue dipping into his belly-button, Louis mewling above him. He tongues at his crotch, getting the pants wet, before unbuttoning and unzipping them and pulling them down, Louis kicking them off; they land somewhere they won’t find until the morning, probably.

“Please, Harry, please,” Louis is saying, voice already wrecked despite them being hardly five minutes into this.

“Please what, baby?” Harry asks into his tummy, peppering kisses into it as he presses his hand onto Louis’ hardening cock. Louis whimpers, loving the attention. “Tell me what you need, baby, come on, tell me.”

“Touch me.” Louis sighs, his body loosening; Harry knows this isn’t going to last long. They’ve gone without each others touch for an entire week and they’re both starved for attention.

“Am touching you.” Harry dips his head down and licks all along the cotton covering Louis’ cock and the moans he causes echo throughout the house, Louis’ hand slamming down on the countertop as he tries to hold himself up. “Gonna need you to be more specific, angel.”

“Want your tongue on me.” He lets out a sigh. “In me.”

“Yeah?” Harry bites on Louis’ hip, knowing Louis is biting his lip because he always does that when Harry bites him there.

“Please, Harry. Please put your tongue inside me.” Louis breathes out, gentle and sweet and so polite; he loves when Louis goes under like this, when he goes so pliant under his hands.

“ _God_ , you’re gonna kill me.” Harry stands up, turning Louis around and gently moves Louis so he’s bent over the counter. He rolls down Louis’ underwear, slowly exposing his beautiful, round, perfect ass--and it’s all for Harry. He bites at it, licking it a little bit, just enough to tease.

Harry kneels down behind Louis again, tapping his knees, signaling him to spread them just a bit wider. From this angle, Harry can see Louis’ balls are filled, looking heavy. He quickly puts his hair up into a bun, just to get it out of the way, and puts one hand on each cheek, spreading them apart while kissing them, gently. Louis’ breathing is heavy, like he’s already so close to orgasm, just like Harry is.

“Gonna eat you out, now.” Is all the warning Louis gets before Harry’s tongue is on him. Louis tastes like he’s showered just this morning, all clean and fresh, and Harry knows he’d planned for this to happen tonight. Harry can’t blame him, of course; it’s a great plan.

He laps his tongue all over Louis’ tight little pink hole, Louis moaning so loudly and Harry gives a single smack to his ass over it. Louis chokes on a gasp, going up on his toes as Harry fucks his tongue into his hole, giving another smack and holding on afterwards with a squeeze, digging his fingers into the steadily reddening skin. He’s paying special attention to when Louis gasps, when he moans, when he whimpers and squirms. _Fuck_ , this boy is so addicting.

“Being so good for me right now, baby.” Harry says, just loud enough to reach Louis’ ears. Louis gives a sob above him and Harry know he’s begun to cry, now. “Such a good, good boy, all for me, my sweet angel.”

Louis pushes his ass back into Harry’s face and Harry can never bring himself to say no, so he goes right back in, fucking his tongue in and out of his hole, getting him so wet, and slapping his cheeks at random intervals so he’d never expect when it’s going to come.

“Ha--rry,” Louis cries out, brokenly, tears spilling onto his cheeks and the countertop from being so overwhelmed. “Need to-- _shit that’s good_ \--need to come.”

Harry gives him another smack, just a bit harder than the rest. Louis moans so loudly, all for him. It’s so much; he can’t help but touch himself, watching as Louis tries to find good friction on the counter.

“What, baby?” Harry asks, voice a little stern.

“ _Please_ , Harry. _Please_ let me come.”

Harry smiles, smugly.

“Good boy.” He stands up, taking his pants and underwear off. “Turn around for me, baby.” He tells him, coaxing him with a press to his hips and a kiss to his neck. He presses himself against Louis, holding his head so softly, swiping his cheeks to rid them of Louis’ tears.

“Kiss?” Louis asks him, so quiet and polite that Harry just can’t resist him; their lips connect in a softer way than they had before, but it’s no less passionate, no less full of love and devotion. Fuck, Harry can feel Louis’ small fingers try to grab onto his bicep and he can feel the phantom press of a ring there. It’s too much.

He reaches down and puts both of their cocks in one hand, jacking them off together. His other hand slithers behind Louis, pressing against his wet hole; he wishes he had lube here, just so he could finger Louis to an orgasm. This will just have to do until later. Louis’ precome is working as a bit of a substitute lubricant for their cocks, and it makes the slide delicious.

Louis gasps into his mouth at the press of Harry’s finger, clutching to his arm a bit tighter than before. He’s tearing up again, quickly, so much after so long of nothing.

“I‘ve got you, sweetheart, you’re alright.” Harry reassures him. “You can come, baby. Whenever you need.”

“Thank you.” He breathes right back, and _finally_ , Louis comes, long and hard. He paints their chests and gets a bit onto Harry’s neck, Harry following not long after.

Harry picks him up, sitting him up onto the counter; he’ll just remember to clean it in the morning. He grabs a few paper towels, soaking them in lukewarm water, and cleans Louis off gently, pressing kisses all over his face. Louis smiles sweetly at him.

Harry sees the lemon meringue pie, chuckles to himself, and sets it in the fridge; they’ll just have to get to it tomorrow.

* * *

Louis, after the first week he’s home, wonders if something’s gotten in the water.

Harry is _insatiable_. Louis is never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, of course, and they normally do have a lot of sex, but the past week has been a bit abnormal. They’ll fuck, clean up a bit, fuck again, eat a sandwich or two, and fuck _again_. Outside of work, it seems they’re always going at it; the moment Harry looks at him, it’s like he’s taken over by something and his eyes go dark.

Louis has had four orgasms, just today.

 _Four_.

Now, he loves having sex just as much as the next guy and he knows they were apart for a whole week, but this is just a bit excessive. His asshole is never going to be the same if Harry keeps this up.

Take right now, for example. Louis is pressed down into the couch cushions, Harry kissing him so hard, barely letting him up for air and he’s just so _tired_. Four orgasms in a day takes a lot of energy and he just wants to sleep.

“Harry, babe--” He tries, pressing his hand onto Harry’s shoulder, but Harry just kisses him again. He pulls back, Harry assuming he needs to breathe for a moment (not entirely wrong) and so instead going for his neck.

“Harry, just--tangerine, okay?”

Louis hates so much as saying the word because Harry’s whole body goes rigid and he pulls back immediately, apologies spewing out of his mouth so quickly.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I know, you’ve done so good today, I shouldn’t have pushed for more, I’m sorry--”

“Harry, stop, you’re fine. I’m just tired, okay?” Louis goes for a weak smile, yawning in the middle of it, which helps prove his point, but only makes Harry look more miserable.

“I’m still sorry.” Harry reaches his hand out as if to stroke Louis’ face, then retracts it.

The word has only ever been used twice; the first time was during their first scene and Louis had gotten a bit nervous, and the second time when he called Harry _daddy_ and Harry had gotten so soft in a ridiculously quick amount of time.

Louis smiles at him.

“You can still touch me, you know.” Louis says, and then, to prove his point, he grabs Harry by the arm and pulls him on top of him. Harry lays on top of him, tucking his head under Louis’ chin, cuddling him close. Louis presses a kiss into his curls. “Why’ve you been under such a sex-haze this past week, anyway?”

Harry laughs a bit at the phrasing, but then goes quiet. It’s a while before he answers, like he’s thinking of what he wants to say before he says it.

Harry shrugs.

“Dunno. Just a mood I’m in, I guess.”

There’s something off about what he says, but Louis figures it’s because Harry himself may not even know.  

“Alright, well, my ass is basically constantly open thanks to you, and it’s beginning to get uncomfortable in a decidedly un-sexy way, so. Maybe we can lay off a bit?” They both laugh more openly, some of the stress leaving from Harry’s back and shoulders.

“Aye aye, cap’n.” Harry mumbles and they’re soon both asleep.

* * *

It happens a few weeks later.

Louis is in the middle of his shift at the hospital, talking with Liam about one of the patient’s kidney transplant and how their recovery has been going, when Liam laughs and points behind Louis’ shoulder.

When Louis turns around, Harry’s walking towards him determinedly, hair loose around his shoulders. He has a bouquet of Peruvian lilies in hand and Louis can only beam as Harry moves towards him.

“What’s all this?” Louis asks, laughing just a bit in surprise. He takes the bouquet from Harry, holds it close to himself and smells them.

“It’s been too long since I’ve properly wooed you, I think.” Harry smiles at him, dimpling.

“Wooed me?” Louis’ sure his eyes are shining right now; Harry’s right when he says it’s been a long time since either of them have done anything like this.

“I’m gonna pick you up after your shift on Friday and take you out to dinner at the nicest place in town.”

Louis barks a bit of a laugh.

“Your own place, you mean?” He teases.

Harry pouts, just a bit. Past Harry, Louis can see a bunch of the other nurses not-very-subtly looking at them and gossipping, Liam included.

“Come on, babe, don’t ruin the surprise.”

Louis rolls his eyes.

“Whatever this is for, you know I’m going to love it.” Louis insists, smelling the lilies again. They’re honestly so gorgeous and he can’t wait to put them in the hallway.

“You’re gonna dress nice, right?” Harry pushes and Louis nods. As if he’d do anything else. Harry smiles at him.

“Great. I love you.” Harry kisses him soundly on the mouth, just a short peck but so good, like it always is.

“Love you, too.”

* * *

Louis is looking at himself carefully in the mirror of the locker room; he knows Harry told him to dress nicely, and he knows La Lune isn’t exactly high class, but still--is a button-up enough? He fixes the collar, smoothing it out, Liam poking a bit of fun at him and saying he’s worrying too much.

“It’s just a date with your husband, Lou, chillax.” Liam says, so matter-of-factly that Louis almost misses it. As it happens, he _does_ catch it and blushes a hundred different shades of red.

“My--Liam, he’s not my--he’s not-- _husband_.” Louis stutters out oh-so-intelligently, flushing at the prospect. There’s a fluttering in his stomach at the thought of Harry proposing to him, of choosing to be with him the rest of his life. He plays with his ring finger, imagining a ring sitting there, brazenly saying to everyone who looked at him that he belonged to someone; belonged to _Harry_.

He’s seriously getting _hard_ over this. Shit.

He fans himself, trying to cool down the small accumulation of sweat beading down his neck, Liam laughing at him more than with him.

“Oh, shut up, Liam.” Louis mumbles as he leaves, backpack with his scrubs and clothes from this morning inside. He walks down the stairs to the ground floor where Harry is standing, waiting for him with yet another bouquet; only this time, he’s gone for some more traditional tulips and daffodils. He accepts them with a kiss and a smile.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Harry says to him as he opens the door for him and Louis can’t help but imagine a ring on one of the fingers curled around the door. The thought gives him goosebumps.

“You look pretty nice yourself.” Louis says, looking up and down Harry’s nice little body. He’s got on a button-up as well, but per his usual style, it’s an almost sheer floral print with half the buttons undone. He’s got his favorite Chelsea boots on with some nice pants and it assures Louis that he chose a good outfit for tonight.

Harry just smiles at him before closing the door. He’s driving, so Louis sits there with the flowers in his lap, wondering what he could do with them once they got to the restaurant; he doesn’t want to just place them anywhere. They’re too pretty to just let sit and wilt. Surely he could ask whoever was in the kitchen tonight to put them in something? There must be pitchers they don’t use.

When they pull up to the restaurant, Louis can see through the giant windows that the place is well-lit, but the blinds are down, which is strange. Harry always insists on using natural light; says it makes the dining room more natural and spacious.

Upon Louis’ query, Harry only smiles, secretively. He holds the door open, motioning Louis inside with a flourish, and--

It’s empty. It is dead fucking _empty_. He can hear the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and Zayn standing off in a corner looking smug. And right in the center of the room is a table with two place settings, an empty vase, and candles surrounding it.

“Harry,” Louis says, a bit overwhelmed. “It’s just like when we first opened.”

Their soft opening had gone pretty well, all said and done, but by the end of the night everyone was exhausted. They had cleaned up, Harry tired and sleepy, but before they could leave, Louis had pulled him into the dining room to see what was before them now. He made Harry wait as he put the finishing touches on a very special dinner he had prepped at home and made Niall put in the oven when Harry wasn’t looking; chicken stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in parma ham, with a side of homemade mashed potatoes. Harry had been so charmed.

“Figured I’d finally get around to returning the favor.” Harry’s places a gentle kiss on his cheek as his hand brushes against Louis’ lower back, leading Louis towards the table, taking the flowers and placing them in the empty vase. When they sit down, however, the flowers are too tall for Louis to see Harry clearly and they both laugh as they have to place it on the next table over.

Zayn walks over, pristine in his suit and tie, and asks if they’d like to have white or red wine today. Louis gives him a dry look.

“Zayn, you damn well know which wines we like.”

Zayn, for just a moment, looks like he’s about to laugh before he schools his face into a neutral expression. Dick.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir. I’m just your waiter today. It would be terribly presumptuous of me to assume I knew your wine preferences.”

Louis rolls his eyes. If that’s the way they’re gonna play it today…

“This is really excessive, but okay. Red. Harry, which one would you recommend today with our meal?”

Louis knows Harry’s most likely planned a meal with lamb or venison today, as those are Louis’ favorites. Whichever one Harry picks is going to tell Louis which meal it is and he relishes in the fact that he probably has as good of a palate as Harry at this point.

“Syrah. But not until the entrée, okay?”

Louis smirks the himself. Venison it is.

Zayn fills up their glasses with water before he goes off to get the bottle of Syrah from their wine rack to place in an ice bucket to cool it down a bit.

 ****“Your appetizers will be out in a few minutes.” Zayn smiles at them before heading back to the kitchen.

“Is Niall doing all your dirty work, then?” Louis smirks. Harry just laughs a bit.

“I prepped the majority of it. But, essentially, yes.”

Louis tsks.

“Lazy, Harold. Don’t know if I want to have kids with someone who can’t even bother to cook me a meal.” Louis runs his foot down the inside of Harry’s calf, Harry’s eyes darkening slightly. Domestic and future talk _always_ gets him going.

“As if you’d up and decide you no longer want kids with me.” Harry points out. Well, he’s got him there.

“True. And, like,” Louis looks down, a bit bashful. “I do love what you’re doing here. It’s honestly--we haven’t done this in so long. I feel like we’re in college all over again.”

Louis still remembers meeting Harry for the first time. He’d been working part time as a server in a restaurant downtown, Harry coming in and asking if they were hiring kitchen staff because he’d wanted experience. Louis had been quickly charmed by his wild curls and doe eyes, and that had sparked almost a year of endless flirting and half-dates before Louis got the guts to ask him out and kiss him on Halloween.

That was nearly nine years ago. He’s spent almost an entire decade with the man across from him and he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

“I know.” Harry agrees. For a moment Louis thinks he’s talking about his thoughts and his devotion before remembering their conversation. Harry places his hand over Louis’, and he notices his palms are sweaty, which is so much like Harry it’s endearing; no matter how long they’ve been together, Harry gets so nervous about doing anything blatantly romantic like this. “I just really wanted to do this for you.”

Louis smiles.

“I’m glad you did.”

Zayn comes out a couple minutes later with two bowls of what looks like butternut squash and tomato soup with a small, kale-heavy salad on the plates beneath them. So they’re going for a fall theme, it seems. Makes sense, considering the current time of year. Harry prides himself on always having the freshest ingredients possible, so he usually ends up altering his menu a couple times a year to allow for that. It’s gotten La Lune quite a few wonderful reviews in the paper.

The soup and salad is honestly so delicious and Louis moans while eating it. The soup reminds him of a few years back in their old apartment, when the heating had gone out in the dead of winter, and Harry had made them this same soup with some toasted bread to warm them up a bit.

“Do you remember when the heating went out in our first apartment?” Louis asks; Harry lights up immediately.

“That was the first night you told me you loved me.” His eyes are shining as he remembers and Louis just smiles at him. “It’s why I made it tonight. Because--well, tonight’s special.”

“It was good soup, what can I say?” He teases. Harry only pouts a little. Louis tries not to wonder too much about what makes tonight so special.

Their conversation is normal; bits and pieces of how they’ll finish up the living room, how Gemma’s doing with her second pregnancy, how Lottie is doing in college, among other things. Zayn clears their dishes and fills their wine glasses before coming out with the main course.

It’s a lovely venison tenderloin with a rich-looking blackberry sauce; Louis appreciates the Syrah more than ever, now. Harry’s honestly such a genius.

When their plates are cleared and Louis is finally finished showering Harry with compliments and praises, Harry seems to get a bit nervous for some reason. Louis tries to ignore it, but as the dinner goes on and Zayn brings their dessert of a sweet sorbet out, Harry’s hands don’t stop _shaking_.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Louis asks after the second time Harry’s spilled wine on himself and Harry blushes ten shades of red.

“N-nothing. I just--uh,” Harry cuts himself off, his eyes going wide as he looks at something over Louis’ shoulder; Louis turns around to see Niall walking towards them, tray in hand and a plate with a single bowl on top. Louis’ eyebrows rise; what is Niall doing? And what the hell is in it?

Niall smiles at them both, wide and jubilant, and he places the plate and bowl in the middle of the table, where the vase had been before.

Louis looks inside it, and sees--oh, _God_.

“Harry.” Louis’ heart has stopped, his palms sweating, fingers trembling. “Is that--?”  

In the middle of the bowl, there is a single, white-gold ring.

He sees Harry nod. He feels like he’s about to cry.

“Louis,” Harry begins, reaching forward for the ring in his right hand and for Louis’ hand in his left, guiding him to stand as he gets down on one knee, “we’ve been together for almost nine years. You have seen me at my worst and you’ve seen me at my best; you make me feel like there are infinite possibilities in the world, like I could open up a thousand restaurants and they’d all be as successful as this one. God, Louis, our dirty talk is almost exclusively about us having children and being devoted to each other for the rest of our lives.”

Louis lets out a wet laugh; this is so much.

“I will always love you, but not as much as right now; tomorrow I’ll love you more, and the day after that I’ll love you even more so. You make my heart feel ten times bigger than it is. That first day we met, I was convinced you must have been some sort of angel; I’ve never met anyone with eyes are striking as yours.”

“Or my ass.”

Harry laughs.

“Or your ass, baby. But Louis--” Both their breaths hitch, the room silent except for Louis sniffling and Harry crying weakly, “Will you marry me?”

There’s just a beat of silence before Louis is crying out his answer.

“Yes, Harry, of fucking _course_ I’ll marry you.”

When they kiss, Louis hears a whooping sound from behind them and he turns to see Zayn and Niall watching; Niall’s pumping his fists and jumping up and down like a child, while Zayn’s recording them with a video camera.

“A warning you were going to film this would’ve been nice.” Louis scolds Harry, giving him another kiss.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

That night, Louis rides Harry into the mattress, the ring making imprints into Harry’s skin. And they’ve never been more in love.

* * *

“Liam, no, we can’t place that bouquet there, that’s my side of the room; those bouquets go on Harry’s.” Liam moves accordingly and Louis feels like maybe he should have a scepter or something.

It’s just a little less than a week until the wedding, and they’re all trying to finish up with some last-minute placements of some decorations and other things. Harry’s speaking with their DJ at the back of the room, finishing up the setlist and timing issues. All in all, it’s going really well and looks so _beautiful_.

Much like the nursery (the thought of which still gives him goosebumps), their wedding is very nautical themed. Creams and navies abound, ropes strung along the backs of wicker chairs, and a small life ring is placed in the middle of each table, surrounding a bouquet of pale roses. There are three tables that have different bouquets than the rest, however. There’s the bouquet of white and green hydrangeas on Harry’s family’s table, the bouquet of white stargazer lilies and pale green Peruvian lilies on Louis’ side, and the [bouquet](http://www.brides.com/wedding-ideas/wedding-style/editorial-pick/2008/03/going-nautical#slide=1) of white ornithogalums, green button mums, and a few hypericums on the table they’d sit at once they were married.

None of the bouquets were ready, yet, of course; they’d die before the wedding if just left there. There are just placecards with the names of which bouquet is supposed to be set there for the florists to read once they’d arrived the morning of the wedding, just to ensure they’re all placed exactly where they need to be placed.

Once Louis is done directing Liam around (a task he never gets tired of), he goes over to Harry and their DJ, Paul.

“...and I think Ms. New Booty should come on when Louis walks down the aisle.” Harry’s saying, a smirk on his face and Louis knows he saw him walking up.

“Very funny, Harold. A joke about my ass, how _original_.” Louis says dryly, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “What were you guys _really_ talking about?” He asks, only a little pointedly. Just a tad.

“Just some songs to go on in the background of the reception. All very normal stuff, promise.” Paul smiles at them.

“You really think I’d let our day be anything less than perfect?” Harry asks him, aimed right into his ear, lips brushing his jawline.

“Yes.” Louis snarks back and they all laugh. Paul leaves, then, with the finalized list in hand after taking a few of Louis’ suggestions and they’re basically done for the day. They just need to--

“Oh, shit, I forgot to pick up the extra rope at Michael’s today.” Louis gripes, annoyed at himself. “Think you can swing us by there on the way back home?”

“Sorry, babe, we gotta take Gemma back; Andy wasn’t feeling well so Ryan took him home. Michael’s is on the other side of town.” Harry says apologetically and Louis just shrugs.

“I’ll go see if Z can take me, okay?” He says, and Harry nods; they share a kiss goodbye and then another just because, Harry swatting his ass playfully when he goes to leave. He can definitely see why people call them disgusting. He walks over to where Zayn and Niall are hanging up some flags and calls Zayn down.

“Hey, can you take me to Michael’s? I forgot to pick up some more rope when I was there earlier.”

“Yeah, sure,” Zayn nods, “Just gotta get the keys from my better half.”

Niall gags above them.

“We are _not_ turning into Harry and Louis, I won’t allow it.” Niall drops the keys down, anyways, and continues on.

Zayn just laughs.

“Thanks, babes!”

They walk out of the reception hall and out towards the parking lot, hopping into Zayn’s car. They’re about halfway to the craft store when Zayn starts talking.

“So do you want strippers or nah?”

The question comes completely out of left field and Louis doesn’t stop laughing for at least a full minute.

“N--no, Zayn, I don’t want strippers.”

Zayn tsks, looking disappointed as he pulls into the parking lot.

“You aren’t letting me do anything fun! Where’s the fun in a bachelor party with no strippers?” Zayn protests as he tries to find a parking space; it’s surprisingly crowded for a Tuesday afternoon.

“The fun is in spending time with my friends and family. Plus, Harry and I promised each other no strippers. We’re getting married to each other and I’m not going to just go back on that kind of promise just to see some stranger’s ass I won’t even like because I’m devoted to Harry’s.”

They get out of the car and begin their walk inside.

“That’s true. Still, if you change your mind…” Zayn teases and Louis just huffs.

“I won’t, but thanks.”

They walk through the store, making idle conversation about how weird it is that fall decorations are out year round, but not winter ones, until Louis brings it up.

“So where’re we even going tomorrow night?” Louis asks, trying to seem nonchalant in hopes he’ll catch Zayn off guard.

“Fat chance, Lou. I’m not spilling anything; it’s a surprise.”

“Come on! It’s my bachelor party, don’t I get any say in this?” Louis whines as he feels a sparkly golden leaf; he could probably use this as an exfoliator or as a substitute for sandpaper since the glitter’s so thick.

“You get your input on if there will be strippers and that’s it. Your only input.”

“There used to be a time you told me everything, Malik. When did you change?”

“Probably when we got into high school, dude. Still haven’t told you about Mallory Guerrero.” Zayn teases, and Louis turns to him, eyes wide.

“What the fuck? You banged Mallory Guerrero in high school?”

Zayn just puts his fingers to his lips and mimes zipping them; Louis hits his shoulder.

“I’ve known you since we were in diapers and this is the thanks I get. I want to be removed from this relationship.”

“Think my dad would fight you tooth and nail on that one, Tomlinson.” Zayn puts in.

It’s been all banter up until this point, like their conversations always go, but this one hits close to home.

Growing up, Louis has never really had a father in his life; he’d always called Mark by his first name and doesn’t really know Troy very well, but the Maliks next door treated him like he was their own. He remembers going to Mosque with them sometimes, watching Zayn get a new prayer rug/janamaz for his birthday, going over to eat dinner with them all the time. To this day he doesn’t eat pork due to their influence, and Yaser and Trisha treated (and still continue to treat) him like a son.

Yaser is the closest thing to a father he’s ever experienced.

Mark was wonderful, of course, and he did the best he could, but in the end it just wasn’t enough. They were never really close; Louis had always run over to the Malik household when he’d had a problem. He’d ask Yaser about relationship advice when they were in high school, he’d spoken to him about his issues with his mother expecting him to go to church every week, and he’d even asked him advice on how to come out to his own _mother_ , for fucks sake.

“Yeah,” Louis says softly, “he would.”

They’re quiet for a few more minutes, finally finding the rope in some weird, obscure part of the store it doesn’t seem like it belongs in, until Louis brings it up again.

“Is he coming? To the bachelor party, I mean.”

Zayn looks at him, like this isn’t something that would have occurred to him.

“Of course he’s coming, Lou. We’re family.”

Louis doesn’t tear up, but it’s a damn near close thing.

* * *

“ _Ah_ , yeah, right there, right _there_ , fuck, _please_ \--” Louis’ voice cuts off with a moan as Harry fucks into him particularly well, nailing him right in his prostate. He’s on all fours, face pressed into the pillows of their bed, breaking in their new sheets; it’s a bit of a backwards way of thinking, to break in new sheets by fucking on them and getting them gross, but it is what it is.

“Feel so tight for me, baby, always feel so good,” Harry’s saying, breathless, right into Louis’ back where he’s pressing kisses on the knob of his neck. “So fucking _good_.”

Louis’ clutching tightly to the sheets, his toes curling as Harry pounds into him, so deep and thick and relentless. He can hardly speak with how Harry is fucking the breath right out of him, and he’s left wanton and moaning and grinding back on Harry’s cock with every thrust.

“Just three more days, angel,” Harry continues, “and we’ll be married. We’ll have forever. _Fuck_ , you feel so good for me.”

Louis moans, high and loud, with that statement. Harry’s hand covers his own, their rings matching up and rubbing together; Louis can’t take his eyes off of them. His arms feel weak, like he can barely hold himself up, and Harry senses this; he gently pulls out and turns Louis onto his back, laying down, and Harry fucks right back into him, kissing him soundly. They moan into each others mouths; Louis loves it like this, when his legs are bent to his chest and he can see what Harry looks like when he clenches the muscles in his ass just right around Harry’s cock.

He’s nailing Louis’ prostate dead on, Louis whimpering with the stimulation. Louis groans into Harry’s mouth, pulling on his bottom lip with his teeth, making a popping sound when he releases it.

“Not gonna--” Louis is cut off at the feeling of Harry’s massive hand covering his cock, jacking him off in time to his thrusts; Louis never understands how he does it. He can hardly walk and breathe at the same time, but the second they get into bed, he’s a magician.

“Come for me, baby, wanna see you,” Harry says, his thrusts becoming erratic, “wanna hear all the pretty noises you make for me.”

Louis moans just a bit louder at that. It’s only a _little_ bit for show.

A few moments later and Louis is spilling into Harry’s hand; the muscles in his stomach are jumping, his toes twitching as his nerves all spiral out of control. Harry always makes him come so hard.

Harry follows him after a few more thrusts, spilling deep inside of him. Louis’ going to make him eat it out later; the thought makes his dick vaguely stir in interest, but he’s too tired right now. Right now, Harry’s slumped over him, slowly softening cock still in his ass; he taps Harry’s hips as a signal to pull out, and he does, both of them wincing slightly at the pull.

Louis didn’t go under tonight, so he gets up, only dizzy from the flow of blood rushing back to his head, and goes to get some washcloths. He comes back to a rumpled looking Harry stretching and he has to just stop and look for a bit.

“See anything you like?” Harry asks, teasing, and Louis’ inexplicably reminded of a certain day back in June painting this very same room.

“Yeah,” Louis says softly, crawling up onto the mattress and placing the washcloth on Harry’s chest, right over the butterfly; they share a kiss, the smack of when they pull apart a bit loud in the otherwise quiet room. They clean themselves up and fall asleep quickly.

* * *

Zayn comes knocking on their door at an absurd hour the following day.

Okay, so maybe it isn’t that absurd; they were in the middle of cleaning up from dinner when the boys show up to cart them off to wherever they were destined to go that night.

Niall is taking Harry while Zayn is taking Louis, tonight. Louis doesn’t have a single clue where Harry’s going tonight, just like Harry has no idea where Louis will be heading off to. Louis feels like that was a strategic part of their plans for the night, so they wouldn’t spill the beans to each other somehow.

Niall and Zayn are nothing if not experts at keeping secrets, especially from each other.

Still, they’re interrupting a very nice makeout session. That’s grounds enough for it to be absurd.

Louis opens the door, sure his shirt looks rumpled and his hair a mess, Harry attached to his back; Zayn just gives them this look. Zayn’s looks make him feel more guilty than his own mother’s.

“It is time,” Niall says with a deep voice, face solemn, until he can’t hold it in anymore and cracks himself up. They all chuckle along with him, Harry laughing outright. Niall’s lucky he’s cute.

Zayn and Niall put blindfolds on both of them once they’ve come downstairs, changed out of their mussed clothes; if there’s one or two new bruises on Louis’ neck since a few minutes ago, nobody has to know.

“Kinky,” Harry jokes as Niall places the blindfold around his eyes and the blood rushes to Louis’ face as memories flood his mind. They’d tried blindfolds a fair few times and it was hot as fuck.

They share one last kiss before they’re put in separate cars, off to destinations unknown.

“Mysteries abound, Malik. Pray tell, what fair sights shall I see this night?” Louis is nothing if not dramatic. He was the lead in three high school musicals; he knows how it’s done.

“Shut up,” Zayn berates, but Louis can hear the smile in his voice. “You’ll see when we get there.”

So Louis just sits there, patiently as possible. He wonders what he looks like to people driving by them right now; do they think he’s been kidnapped? That this is some weird and public BDSM scene? The possibilities are endless.

Louis feels the car come to a gentle stop and hears the engine being cut off, the keys pulled out of the ignition.

“We’re here.” Zayn tells him, like Louis doesn’t already know. They unbuckle their seatbelts and Louis’ hand reaches out, searching for the door handle, but he eventually gets it and gets out of the car. Zayn guides him up onto the curb, helping him navigate through a door and up a few flights of stairs.

Another door is opened just as his blindfold is pulled off and in front of him is Zayn’s apartment, filled with so many people here all for him.

There’s his sisters Lottie and Fizz, Dan and Mark and Yaser in the corner having a conversation that _must_ be awkward beyond belief, Oli and Stan, a few of the people he works with standing with Liam. As he steps inside, everyone notices him and a cheer goes up, people coming forward to congratulate him on his upcoming nuptials.

He turns back to Zayn.

“This is so amazing.” He says, overcome. “This is--this is exactly what I wanted, Z. Thanks, bro.” Louis hugs him tightly, Zayn stroking his head in a calming manner. They separate as Oli and Stan come up to them, all high fiving, and Louis only takes a few moments to laugh to himself at just how laddy they still are.

They talk for a long time, catching up on how they’ve all been doing. Oli’s just recently been promoted at his workplace and gotten a pay raise to boot, and Stan’s wife is pregnant with their second child. When the conversation veers towards sports, Zayn claps him on the shoulder and says he’s going to help his dad bring something in. Louis nods him off, quickly giving his opinion of how America may actually have a chance in the FIFA tournament this year.

Zayn comes back a few minutes later, helping Yaser carry in a couple large bottles of various sodas while they exchange a few jokes Louis can’t hear from here.

It hits him, for some reason, just how much he wishes he and Mark were like that. Mark and Dan are still off in a corner, talking to his sisters, and he’s barely exchanged a few words with them all night. He tears up a bit, wishing he had a _father_. He wishes Mark had stayed, wishes Troy had stayed, wishes neither of them had just given up on him, on their family like that.

He and Yaser make eye contact and Yaser smiles at him, motioning him over. Louis says a quick excuse to Oli and Stan and goes over to the kitchen.

“Hi, Mr. Malik.” Louis says, but Yaser just shakes his head fondly, pulling him into a hug. When they pull apart, Louis notices Zayn has left and figures he’s giving them some privacy.

“Look at you, my boy.” Yaser says, pride evident in his voice and face. “All grown up and set to be married.”

Louis massages the back of his neck, bashful.

“Yeah.”

“You know, the first time you brought him home, I knew he was it for you.”

It wasn’t just that knowledge that made Louis shocked; it was the way Yaser had phrased it as well. He made it sound like Louis had brought Harry home to meet his family, the Maliks, not just his family, the Tomlinsons.

“Really?” Louis asks, smiling softly.

“Oh, yeah.” Yaser continues. “When you brought him over for dinner you couldn’t take your eyes off of him all night. I knew he’d be good for you.”

“He is. He is good for me.”

Louis has missed this; he’s missed being able to talk to Yaser like this, just one-on-one like he used to as a child. Yaser seems to notice, so he motions Louis for him to follow him out onto the patio, closing the door behind them. It’s a warm night, summer setting in early; the sky is clear, a few stars shining through the light pollution, the moon bright.

“What’s bugging you tonight, Louis?” Yaser asks, leaning against the railing next to him. Louis shrugs.

“Dunno.” Louis says, even though he does know.

Yaser gives him this look that’s uncannily like Zayn’s.

Louis sighs deeply, knowing he’s going to be here for a bit.

“Guess I just…” How can he put this without seeming rude? “I guess I just wish I had a dad.” He refuses to look at Yaser’s face, refuses to acknowledge the look of pity that must be there right now.

A hand lands on his shoulder.

“You do, Louis.”

He scoffs.

“Troy left when I was barely older than a week and Mark left when I came out. I know he says that doesn’t have to do with him leaving, but it was the final straw, I can tell. I love my mom, she’s my best friend, but I just--” Oh, God, he’s crying now. Yaser pulls him into another hug and the tears just won’t _stop_ , he just wishes _someone_ would treat him like their son.

“If you think for a moment that I don’t consider you my own son then you’re sorely mistaken, Louis.” Yaser says to him, quiet, and Louis only cries harder.

Yaser holds him for a long time, the stars their only witness. When Louis pulls back, he wipes the snot from under his nose, clears the tears from his cheeks, and gives a weak smile that Yaser returns tenfold.

“You’ve grown up to be one of the kindest, most genuine men I’ve ever met. I couldn’t be more proud of you, Louis.”

Louis smiles a bit wider, looking to the side a bit; the party’s still going on in their absence, and it looks like Liam’s beginning to stumble a bit already.

“There we go,” Yaser says, chucking under his chin. “Keep that smile on your face. You’re getting married, for fucks sake!”

Louis laughs, bright and loud.

He does have a family. A wonderful one, at that. His mom, his sisters and brother, Harry, Niall, Liam, and the Maliks. He really doubts anyone could do better.

* * *

Needless to say, Louis wakes up at a ridiculous time. He and Harry were returned home at about the same time of who-the-fuck-knows AM and fell into bed together, only managing a few sloppy kisses and a half-assed handjob that they gave up on before falling asleep. Louis feels sweaty and kind of gross, really, curled up around Harry and breathing his hair in.

The light’s streaming in through his curtains in full force, and when Louis checks the clock, he sees it’s past noon already. He’s just grateful he’s gotten this week off work and the restaurant’s closed. It’ll reopen after the wedding, of course, with Niall and Josh taking over the kitchen and Sandy finally getting to be on waitstaff like he’d been asking, so Zayn has plenty of help while they’re on their honeymoon.

Louis presses his nose into Harry’s skin, his heart beginning to beat harder. Tomorrow’s the day.

He kisses just behind Harry’s ear, whispering “Wake up, darling,” into his ear. Harry squirms, stretching just a bit before falling back asleep.

That’s fine; Louis’ been meaning to make breakfast anyways.

He sneaks out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold wood, and he pads over to his chest of drawers and pulls out some of Harry’s extra-fuzzy socks. They droop a bit on his legs, made for larger feet, but it doesn’t matter; they’re perfect and soft and warm.

He walks down to the kitchen and pulls out a pan, flour, salt, baking powder, milk, butter, sugar, and a carton of eggs. He may not be able to do cook a whole lot of things, but pancakes are his specialty. He pours in all of his dry ingredients into a large bowl, mixing them together before making a well in the center; this is a trick he’d learned from Harry, actually, putting the wet ingredients in the middle of the dry ingredients and stirring them in that way. He doesn’t know what it is about the technique, but they always taste better this way. Louis is about halfway convinced it’s a placebo effect.

He pours the batter into a pan on medium heat, waiting for it to cook through enough for him to flip it. By the time he’s gotten a good rhythm going, a long pair of chilly, bare arms wrap around his waist and a kiss is pressed into his shoulder.

“What’re you doing up so early?” Harry’s voice is gruff and thick from sleeping longer than usual. Louis loves how he sounds in the morning, speech slow and rough.

“It’s one in the afternoon. I’d hardly classify this as early, Harold.” Louis flips a pancake over, slapping Harry’s hand when he reaches for the plate of already-made pancakes, trying to sneak a bite. “Wait your turn.”

Harry pouts into his neck, pressing more sporadic kisses there.

“It’s early because we could be in bed.” Harry’s hand wanders lower, slithering past Louis’ waist and hips, pressing into his crotch. Louis swallows hard, trying not to burn himself or the pancake.

“I’m gonna burn breakfast if you keep that up.” His voice is already breathy; he’s _always_ horny in the morning and Harry knows that.

Harry just hums in response and presses into Louis’ crotch harder.

“Harry, seriously. We’re gonna eat breakfast like civilized people.” Louis laughs and Harry gets the hint, pulling back with a laugh before rummaging through the fridge.

“These special pancakes, or just plain?” Harry asks, pulling out some milk and syrup.

“Just plain ones. Couldn’t find the strawberries or chocolate chips, so.”

“Yeah, I had to grab them and take them to the restaurant. I noticed we were running low there and Ashton couldn’t get a delivery out to me before I needed them.”

Louis nods, placing the final pancake onto the pile. He puts three pancakes on one plate and the other three remain on the original plate. After he puts them on the counter, he brings over some stools so they can just eat in there because he doesn't want to make a trip to the dining room. After spreading butter and syrup all over his pancakes like he’s five again, he takes a huge bite.

“Perfect,” Louis murmurs to himself, Harry snorting beside him.

“How humble.” He’s smiling, though.

“Well,” Louis says, spearing another bite onto his fork, “you’re marrying this narcissistic son of a bitch tomorrow, so you better get used to it.”

Harry laughs and they share a sticky-sweet kiss. Louis honestly can’t wait to spend the rest of his life like this.

* * *

Harry’s had a rough night. After being separated from Louis for just one night, he couldn’t sleep well; there was nobody wrapped around him, no added layer of warmth, no heartbeat sounding through him, no breathing and snuffling in his ear. It had been so quiet and cold.

He’d woken up groggy and exhausted, sleep clinging to the circles under his eyes. He’d showered in cold water, trying to wake himself up, and when that hadn’t worked he’d tried singing; Louis always sings in the shower in the morning. It’s not the same, though.

He’d eaten a poor breakfast of cereal and grabbed the bag containing his suit and the box of his shoes before heading out the door, getting in the car and driving to the church.

The inside is bustling with energy already, florists and caterers and wait staff and family walking to and from place to place. He’s been assured a thousand different ways that he should have no part in putting anything together on the day of his wedding, and he’s grateful for it now. The noise is a bit much on his addled brain, but he weaves through the crowd to where his changing room is. When he gets to the room, he hangs up the bag and places the box on the floor, letting Lou inside to fix up his hair. It’s so long at this point that there isn’t much to do, but it still somehow shines and radiates by the time she’s finished.

He gets dressed quickly, not wanting to muss up his hair. Just as he’s tying his laces up, he hears the door open to reveal his mother in a gorgeous long, navy dress, Gemma and Robin right behind her. 

She comes in, her arms reaching out to hug him close for a brief moment before she pulls back to inspect him.His mom tightens the cream bow around his neck, straightening out the lapels of his suit jacket; she’s smiling, eyes watery like every other important moment of his life, but for the first time since everything, he’s also choked up a bit. He going to  _marry_ Louis today. 

“I’m so proud of you, you know?” She says to him, pulling him close and hugging him tight. “My baby boy’s getting _married_.”

“Mom.” Harry says, a bit embarrassed and overwhelmed. A few tears fall out as Gemma and Robin join their hug, as Harry’s engulfed by his family. When they all pull apart from each other, Gemma musses up his hair a bit, fixing it right after with a teasing smile. His mom goes to help Niall with something or other and Robin follows her. 

“Hey, H.” She says to him with a small smile. She looks close to tears, her hands on her wide belly. “She’s moving now; d’you wanna feel her before you go out there?”

He sobs just a bit before squatting down and placing his hand on her belly.

“Hello miss Annelise. I wish you could be here to be my little flower girl, but I feel like your brother will make a fine stand-in.” There’s a little kick against his hand and he is so moved with a desire for children of his own. There’s an entire room already ready for their little one, whenever he and Louis decide to take that step. He feels like it’s not far away.

“Feeling like yourself again?” Gemma asks and Harry nods at her, standing back up.

“Yeah, think so. Just got a bit out of my head for a second.”

“It’s your big day, Harry, of course you’re a bit frazzled. Lord knows I was a wreck.” She rolls her eyes and they both laugh at the memory. She had been quite the mess that day; she’d cried and messed up her hair three different ways before she’d calmed down enough to get out there with her head held high and marry Ryan. “But Harry...you’ve honest to God got your soulmate out those doors waiting for you. You’re gonna walk down that aisle with mom by your side, Louis doing the same with Zayn on the other side of the room, and you’re gonna meet him up there under that arch. And you’re going to marry the _love of your life_.”

Gemma’s never been the most eloquent of speakers; it runs in the family, if Harry’s anything to go by. But today, she’s said probably some of the most important words he will hear in his entire life.

“I will. Trust me, I will.”

He follows her out the door to the hallway; he can see Louis down at the end, and fuck whoever came up with that bad luck rule. He’s going to see his fiancé.

Gemma tries to stop him, of course, but he just shrugs her off.

Louis’ outline looks superb in his three piece suit; it hugs his curves in every right way imaginable, and Harry just wants to eat him. He places a hand on Louis’ shoulder, gently turning him around; Louis just laughs into the kiss pressed to his mouth.

“You trying to get me in trouble, Styles?” He teases.

“Won’t be a Styles for long, will I?” Harry says right back. Louis’ breath hitches and they also _really_ don’t have time for this. “Just had to see you, baby. You look great.” He adds when they pull apart. Louis’ hair is only a little rumpled, but his lips look bitten and his cheeks are flushed, and their honeymoon in the Outer Banks is going to be spent entirely in bed, Harry can tell.

Louis just licks his lips, biting down a smile.

“Get outta here.” Louis smooths down his jacket and Harry turns to go with one last kiss to his cheek.

When they line up to walk down the aisle, he hears the [music playing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAI2EKvGMaw) and walks in time with his mother beside him. He looks to his right to see Louis on the other side of the sea of guests, walking with Zayn’s arm in his. And Harry only just saw him a few minutes ago, but he’s still struck by him; his eyes are electric and his skin is golden and vibrant, and when they finally meet up under the arch and connect their hands together, Harry swears he’s flying.

There’s some words and vows exchanged, but the only thing Harry can think is that he’s grateful this is being recorded, because the only memory he has for the rest of his life is how Louis looks: perfect and sweet and all for him.

His _husband_.

When they kiss, it’s anything but short and sweet. It’s probably a bit too dirty considering their company, but it doesn’t matter to him because right now he’s got Louis’ mouth under him and kissing him back, so strong.

His heart’s never been bigger.


End file.
